Wednesday's Workout

The workout started off just fine. I'd gotten a decent amount of sleep, and during the first half of class, I matched my previous Zercher squat PR.

And then I saw Tim write the day's metcon on the board:

• Row 2K.

I'm not exactly sure what happened next, because my brain was preoccupied with this thought:

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

Before I sat on the erg, I could already predict what lay ahead: Roughly two minutes of solid rowing, followed by two minutes of oh-crap-we're-not-yet-even-halfway-done, and then two minutes of extreme mental and physical anguish, and lastly, two minutes of just-a-few-hundred-more-meters-before-I-can-fall-off-and-die. And afterwards, I knew I'd be in for a good five minutes of rolling around on the floor, wincing in pain, and trying (and failing) to stand up.

I was right.

Result: 8:01. I've done worse. But I've also done better.

Charley Horse 4, PR 0

We had another packed house in the 5 a.m. class at CrossFit Palo Alto today, where we were treated to a variety of gymnastics movements (we practiced tumbling, handstands, ring L-sits, skin-the-cats, etc.) before Tim scrawled on the whiteboard:

• Loooooove 2K row

To paraphrase Tina Turner: "What's LOVE got to do with it?"

After all, I both fear and loathe the erg. There are few workouts I hate as much as this one. Rowing 2000 meters invariably leaves me feeling totally wrecked -- and today was no different. Plus, my track record seems to indicate that I'm getting worse and worse at this towing stuff.

My previous 2K row times? 7:45 (July 2010), 8:04 (October 2010), and 8:07 (July 2011). Suffice it to say, I'm not exactly blazing fast on an erg. In fact, I seem to be getting slower rather than faster -- despite throwing myself fully into the rowing each time.

So it came as a but of a surprise when, for the first three-quarters of today's workout, I was actually feeling decent. The first 500 meters flew by without incident, and the second 500 was bearable. The third 500 was a kick in the pants, but I still had some fuel in the tank. "Just keep that split under 2 minutes," I heard Tim yell from behind me.

But as I entered the home stretch, my feet painfully seized up in cramps. Both arches were on fire. And immediately thereafter, I developed charley horses in both thighs, too. Ah, muscle spasms. Racked with spasming body parts, I forgot all about proper erg technique. My pulls slowed, and my head bobbed back and forth. It was ugly, folks. REALLY ugly.

As soon as I was done, I collapsed on the floor, whipped off my shoes, and tried to stretch and massage out my lactic-acid engorged appendages. I must have stayed on the floor for a good 5 minutes before staggering to my feet.

On the plus side:

• I learned that it takes me approximately 260 strokes to row 2K.

• I got my second-best 2K row time today. I rowed 7:54 today -- 9 seconds off my P.R., but 13 seconds better than my P.W. (Personal Worst).

• I didn't get sick afterwards. (Knock on wood!)

• This probably means we won't have to row 2K again for at least a little while.

I have no idea if what I just wrote makes any sense. Pretty sure I passed out a few times while typing this post tonight. Must...sleep...now...

Monday's Workout: Get Off The Floor

With M at work and no available babysitters, I wasn't able join the rest of the 5 a.m. crew at the gym this morning. (I suppose I could've snuck out of the house and left the kids unattended for an hour. So long as they remained asleep in bed, no one would have been the wiser! But I'm not that bad of a dad.)

Our garage has no room for cars.

I hate missing class. My garage is stocked with just about everything I need (except maybe a 2-pood kettlebell) to tackle a WOD, and I don't mind working out in my PJ-pants, but it's just not the same as kick-starting the week alongside the other early-morning nutjobs at CrossFit Palo Alto.

As soon as I realized I was going to be stuck at home on Monday morning, I sighed and shot Tim a text message asking what he had in mind for today's WOD. 

He responded last night via Twitter. "Ready?" he asked.

"Always," I responded, eager to find out what was in store for the morning.

"Row 2K."

I stared at the words on my iPhone screen, slack-jawed. Rowing is -- to put it mildly -- not my favorite thing in the world. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard; I couldn't think of an appropriate response that didn't include foul language.

"Get off the floor," Tim wrote a minute later. I'm not on the floor, I thought. Not yet.

But hey: I asked for it. So I hustled off to bed, determined to rest up for the morning shenanigans in my garage.

Strength Skill:

• Snatch to Overhead Squats (2 sets of 5, 3 sets of 3)

My three-year-old cried out at 4:20 this morning, frantic because he couldn't find his stuffed cat. I located his fuzzy toy (it was right next to him) and tucked him back in bed, but I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Might as well get up and exercise at the same time as my 5 a.m. compatriots, if not in the same place.

After warming up, I eased into my snatches and overhead squats. It's been a few months since I last practiced snatches as a strength skill, and my first few awkward reps showed me just how rusty I'd gotten. Without the benefit of Tim coaching and cues, I took a short break to re-read skim the snatch chapter in Greg Everett's book and study a few videos on YouTube before continuing.



Resisting the temptation to go heavy, I managed to get into a groove after a couple of sets. Most of my reps felt solid (with the exception of a couple towards the end, when I failed to keep my chest up and ended up stumbling). I suspect I was distracted by the knowledge that it was almost time to mount the erg.

Metcon:

• Row 2K

I have bad news and good news about today's workout. (Yes, believe it or not, there's actually some good news.)

The bad news first: My goal was to finish sub-8 minutes, but I finished in 8:07 -- 3 seconds slower than the last time I attempted this workout (and 22 seconds slower than the first time I pulled 2K). By this objective measure, I'm moving in the entirely wrong direction. Plus, immediately post-WOD, I was flat on the floor for a good few minutes, panting and leaking fluids. (From my pores, people. My pores.)

I know exactly why I didn't beat my previous times. For the first 1000 meters, I deliberately kept a slower-than-usual pace in an attempt to conserve energy for the back half -- and it was a spectacularly dumb idea. At the 1K mark, I'd already let 3:57 slip by, and yet dialing back my speed hadn't stopped my legs from burning like crazy. At the midpoint of the workout, I realized my plan to save some gas in the tank had backfired. Try as I might to speed up and make up some time in the last 1000 meters, I couldn't. Live and learn.

But here's the good news: This time, after completing the 2K, I did not topple off the erg and curl up into a fetal position. My thighs did not clench up so hard that I had to pound on my quads to make them release. I did not roll around on the floor with my face contorted in a rictus of agony. My butt cheeks were Charley-horse-free. And I did not feel like barfing all over myself.

Instead, after a minute or two, I picked myself off the floor, walked into the kitchen, and ate a sweet potato.

Progress!

I dropped by the gym in the afternoon and watched Tim and Paul row 2K. This was the aftermath.

Wednesday's Workout: Rowing Makes Me Sick

ROWING. Why'd it have to be rowing?

Metcon:

3 rounds for time:

• One minute to complete 20 air squats
• One minute to row max distance (in meters)
• One minute to complete 10 pull-ups
• One minute to row max distance (in meters)
• One minute to complete 10 burpees
• One minute to row max distance (in meters)

Scoring is calculated by totaling the number of meters rowed.

I make no secret of the fact that rowing is the bane of my CrossFitting existence. "Hate" is not too strong a word to use when describing how I feel about having to climb onto the erg. But that's also why I force myself to practice. We keep an erg in our garage, and I dutifully mount that torture device every few days in the hopes that one day, I'll suck less at rowing.

Did my homework help me in today's WOD? Yes and no. I rowed with improved form and maintained a good stroke rate, but the sheer exertion required -- especially with squats, pull-ups and burpees thrown into the mix -- took a toll. My legs felt like flaming jelly by the middle of the second round. And the final round of 10 burpees took me the entire minute to complete. Every time I stumbled back to the rower, my pace got slower. Eighteen minutes after the start of the workout, I limped to the finish.

Result: 2,239 total meters as RXed (meaning I did the pull-ups unassisted). My pace was just under 250 meters per minute.

I'm satisfied with my score -- despite the fact that it's not my best performance on the erg. Last July, I rowed 2K in 7:45, keeping a pace of a little over 260 meters per minute -- before collapsing on my couch at home and immediately coming down with a fever.

Well, it's nice to know that some things stay the same, 'cause once again, I feel a cold coming on. For some reason, rowing 2K+ appears to be a surefire way to thrash my immune system and lower my defenses against the germs that my kids generously bring home from school.

Good times.

Lazy Sunday

I'm an idiot (but what else is new?). While the kids ate breakfast in the kitchen, I snuck into the garage to row 2K on our erg. I don't know what possessed me -- I hate rowing, and I especially hate rowing 2K. But the Thursday classes at CrossFit Palo Alto did it a few days ago, and perhaps out of a misguided sense of obligation to suffer along with everyone else, I hopped onto the rower and pretty much wrecked myself for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, we had zero on the agenda today. A couple of our friends dropped by for brunch, and we made a Costco run, but for the remainder of the day, I pretty much lazed around. I didn't even work on the half-dozen or so unfinished blog posts that are languishing on my computer.

It felt nice to turn off my brain for a day. I just wish I'd remembered to rest my body, too.

Ergomaniacs

Given my fear and loathing of rowing, there's no way I'd ever consider participating in Ergomania, Seattle's annual indoor rowing competition. But last Saturday, over 400 people showed up to face off on Concept2 ergs and suffer.

And I do mean SUFFER. Here are some quotes from a recent Seattle Times feature on the event:

• "You can barely hear. Your eyesight goes out. It's nerve-wracking."

• "I'm surprised there aren't more puke buckets around."

• "Everything hurts. My throat. My hands. My legs. My feet."

• "Marathoners hit the wall on the 23rd mile. Rowers hit the wall at 500 meters. At about 1,000, you feel like you can't go any further, but you can't give up. Therefore, you're going to die."

Ergomania doesn't sound like much fun.

Still, I think I'd have a shot at improving my 2K row if I had a super-intense, bug-eyed coxswain screaming at me the whole time I was cranking the flywheel. Hell, I'd hire this coxswain on the basis of her facial expression alone:

(Source: Seattle Times)

Monday's Workout

Strength Skill:

• Turkish Get-Ups

I've worked my way up to doing get-ups with a 20kg (44 pound) kettlebell, but it's murder on my wrists.

Metcon:

• Row 2000 meters.

Sounds simple enough, but this is my all-time least favorite metcon. I did this once before -- it was the final task I had to complete for my Level One test back in July. And the aftermath was ugly:

My legs were so cramped up that I couldn't do anything but rock back and forth on the erg, moaning and punching my thighs. After a few minutes, I tried to stand up, but my left knee buckled and I stumbled to the ground. I crawled a few steps into the gym, and lay on the floor.

But that day, despite the cramping legs, I completed the 2000-meter row in 7:45.

Not today. I pulled 8:04 -- almost 20 seconds slower than my previous effort. But it was just as painful -- as soon as I was done, I doubled over on the Concept2, my feet still locked in the stirrups. It took me a couple of minutes to get off the erg and totter over to a chair, where I kneaded my legs and tried to catch my breath. Even when I managed to get up and into my car, I couldn't even think about driving until I'd spent a few minutes reclining back in the driver's seat, waiting for my quads to unclench.

(She looks like how I felt.)

Rowing and me don't get along.

On the plus side, we probably won't be doing this workout again anytime soon.

Saturday's Workout

I woke up determined to complete my 2K row test today. It's the last of the 22 items on my CrossFit Level One test. I've finished everything else (even the damned wall balls), and knew I had just one week left in the month to complete this one remaining task. The problem? The 2K test is notorious for being hellish.

The Devil's Plaything

Here's how one rowing coach describes it:

The 2k test became a staple in the rowing world in 1995, when the Charles River All Star Has Beens changed the format of their little event from 2500m to 2k. Everyone can blame these clowns for the invention of the dreaded erg test in 1980. They thought it would be "fun." Thus the erg, never very popular before, became synonymous with pain.

You see, there is a big difference in discomfort between a 6000m and 2000m test. As I've written before, the 6k is a test of endurance and mental toughness. The 2k emphasizes endurance, power delivery, mental toughness, and pain tolerance. The 2k hurts you, if you do it right. It hurts you a lot.

The pain stems from muscle fatigue and lactic acid build-up. Rowers have been known to go beyond hypoxia and barf all over themselves during a 2K test.

The Level One test requires that I finish a 2K row in 8:10 or less -- a mark I've never managed to achieve at home. I've been practicing on the rowing machine (ergometer or "erg") in our garage, with underwhelming results. (Examples are here and here.) In fact, the one time I tried to row 2K for time, I missed the 8:10 mark by 6 seconds. (And then promptly toppled off because both of my quads seized up painfully.)

I've been telling myself that the 8:10 standard wouldn't be so bad if I were larger, heavier, and/or had longer legs. Rowing is all about using a forceful leg drive to crank out a long, powerful stroke; sadly, my small size, stubby legs and shitty technique all contribute to a less-than-efficient stroke. Concept2's website features a Weight Adjustment Calculator that equalizes the performance of rowers of different weights, and it shows that -- for my weight -- I'm actually doing much better than my results indicate. But it's of little comfort. The Level One test doesn't distinguish between a little guy like me and a 6'4" 200-pound rower whose legs reach up to his neck; we both have to finish in 8:10 or less.

I knew I had to give it a shot today -- not because I was confident in my abilities, but out of abject fear and self-doubt. Chances were good that I'd fail today, but if that happened, I'd have another week to try again.

After stretching in the morning, I tried to keep as loose and relaxed as possible. Then, at 11, I drove to the gym, where a number of others were chipping away at Level One and Two tests of their own. No one, however, was doing the 2K test but me. The ergs were all lined up outside in the sun.

Chasing the butterflies out of my stomach with a swig of water, I hopped on one of the ergs next to another Level One test-taker, Jimmy, who was rowing to warm up for his squat test. "Just keep a good pace," Jimmy advised. "Keep it at a 2:00 [500-meter split] pace and you'll be fine." Easier said than done, I thought.

"Did you already do your 2K?" I asked.

"Yeah." He laughed. "It was the single toughest CrossFit workout I've ever done. When I finished, I just rolled off and clutched my legs for fifteen minutes. I couldn't walk. It was BRUTAL."

Great.

I didn't want to think about it anymore, so I just started cranking away.

The first 500 meters were relatively easy -- and I was surprised to see that my average 500-meter split was 1:45 -- much faster than I'd expected to go. But then came the second 500 -- and I started to feel the burn building up in my thighs. And my split time -- while still under 1:50 -- started creeping up. Fuck.

By the time I arrived at the third 500, sweat was pouring down in sheets, and my breathing was sharp and irregular. My lungs were bursting. I wasn't just aching anymore -- I was in serious pain. My legs were on fire, and my hip flexors felt like they were about to explode.

Just then, Tim walked over and glanced at the digital display on the monitor. "Great pace!" he said encouragingly. Then he looked at the damper setting. "Did you know you're set to a higher resistance than necessary?" I couldn't catch my breath to answer. Didn't matter anyway -- I was too far into the test to change the setting now. Getting no response from me, Tim gave me a quizzical look and strolled off to check out some other test-takers.

Two guys came over to check out my performance as I entered my last 500 meters. My strokes were now ragged, inconsistent and feeble. I was wobbling from side to side, and my knees were starting to splay out. My throat was on fire. This was getting really, really ugly.

But as my cheering section -- consisting of two complete strangers -- yelled out words of encouragement, I started to just pull away with abandon. "You only have 200 meters left! Let it fly!" It's incredibly clichéd, but I closed my eyes and left it all out there. It wasn't pretty, but I went as fast as I could go. Failure was not an option because I couldn't fathom having to repeat this monster.

When I finally heard a whoop of congratulations from the guys hovering above me, I opened my eyes. According to the monitor, I finished in 7:45 -- more than half a minute faster than my single previous attempt, and 25 seconds faster than I needed for Level One. Most rowers would laugh at my pathetic 2K time, but to me, it felt like a herculean accomplishment. (My weight-adjusted time was 6:40.)

I was in too much pain to celebrate the completion of my Level One requirements. My legs were so cramped up that I couldn't do anything but rock back and forth on the erg, moaning and punching my thighs. After a few minutes, I tried to stand up, but my left knee buckled and I stumbled to the ground. I crawled a few steps into the gym, and lay on the floor. Tim snapped a photo of me as my sweat seeped into the floor. I tried to mug for the camera and crack a joke, but I was too hoarse (which was puzzling, given that I hadn't said a word during the row). Even after driving home and crashing on the couch, it took me another hour and a half to feel somewhat normal again.

But enough bragging and whining. As M reminded me: "Your entire workout took less than 8 minutes."

She's right, but that eight minutes wrecked me. With my immune system shot to shit, I promptly developed a fever and am now down with a cold.

It was worth it to finish the Level One test, though!